


Oil and Fire

by TwoHalvesSameSoul



Series: Oil and Fire [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: BAMF Sam Winchester, Demon!Dean, First Blade, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Gen, M/M, Mark of Cain, Post Season 9 Finale AU/Pre Season 10 AU, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2571008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoHalvesSameSoul/pseuds/TwoHalvesSameSoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is gone. Sam is lost. </p>
<p>Sam starts putting the pieces together. He realizes that Crowley knows more than he's letting on. <br/>How far is Sam willing to go to get Dean back, and what is he willing to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelations

**Author's Note:**

> Written during the 2014 Summer Hiatus. 
> 
> All characters within belong to Supernatural and Eric Kripke. I own nothing but my own vivid imagination.
> 
> Ladies of the Den, Love you.   
> Editor- Stop being like me.

Chapter 1

“Shit!” Sam swore under his breath as he worked to bring the Impala back into the correct lane. The truck’s horn was still blaring loudly as it passed by, headlights flashing angrily from the big rig. That’s all he needed. Finally getting close to finding his brother again only to have to explain to him that he totaled his car. Sam could make a strong argument that the fault would be Dean’s. If he hadn't taken off like he had and disappeared then Sam wouldn't be running on…..when was the last time that he slept? 36 hours….48? Fuck, he didn't even know anymore. The last time he’d stopped for any length of time was about four states ago and that had been purely out of need. He had needed a shower and a hot meal. He hadn't even meant to sleep but after a long hot shower, he couldn't keep his eyes open and finally relented and allowed himself a couple hours of sleep. He woke in the early hours of the morning, the sun far from making its presence known. He’d had nightmares again. Out of habit he had lain awake for a few minutes listening for the familiar sounds of his brother’s low, breathy snore. Dean will swear up and down that he doesn't snore, but Sam knows the truth. In his sleep-deprived state he had a brief moment of sheer panic when he hadn't heard anything. Throwing the covers off and fumbling frantically for the bedside lamp, it took a minute for Sam’s eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness and a few seconds longer for reality to sink back in. Dean was gone. His nightmares were real. This was real. And it was his fault. When it boiled down to it, Sam pushed him to this. 

Now moving purely on stale gas station coffee and pure adrenaline fueled rage, Sam refocused his tired eyes on the road ahead of him. Turning on the radio he smiled to himself as AC/DC’s familiar guitar chords filled the car, his mind wandering to the last conversation he’d had with Crowley and debated with himself on just how far he’d go to get Dean back. Sam already knew the answer but he’d feel less guilty about it later if he at least entertained the idea of struggling with the morality of it.   
Crowley…. Sam had big plans for that fucking demon when he finally had Dean back safely where he belonged. Sam knew in his hunter’s gut that Crowley had played them both, particularly Dean. He knew the Winchester’s weakness. He knew how far they’d go for each other. And he had used it. The moment he sensed Dean’s pain, he had pounced. Sam knew that he was partially to blame, hell, he was mostly to blame. He had pushed Dean away and he knew it. He had pushed Dean straight into that demon’s path. Even after Sam had first noticed The Mark, he had continued to push Dean away. Sam had thrown up walls the moment he’d realized that Dean had allowed an angel to possess him, not really caring or bothering to listen to anything that Dean had to say on the matter. Sam had felt used, again. Worse, Dean had lied to him again even if he had thought it was the only way to save Sam. So Sam did the only thing he could think of that would truly punish his brother, hurt him, break him. Sam took away that bond, severing the Winchesters into two separate, equally torn, completely fucked up individuals. And it had hurt. Having your soul ripped apart is a pain that Sam will never forget. If Sam had ever doubted the bond between the brothers and how strong it really was, he no longer did. Having that wall between them was more than Sam had anticipated. After a while he realized that he couldn't do it anymore. He needed his brother, loved him, and wanted him back. Except by then The Mark and the First Blade had already started to twist Dean’s soul. Sam could feel Dean pulling away from him. He knew Dean was either knowingly or subconsciously doing it to protect his little brother. Somehow Dean knew how this would end. The fact that Dean followed it through anyway haunted Sam. If Sam hadn't broken them, maybe Dean wouldn't have gone on his suicidal mission from hell.

And now Sam was counting solely on Crowley to get his brother back. Two days after Dean disappeared, Sam was just outside of Boulder Colorado following the trail of a demon. Sam had summoned Crowley shortly after bringing his brother home. He couldn't bring himself to burn his bones. It wasn't even an option really. Sam knew that if the situation were reversed, Dean wouldn't burn his. The irony of that thought was not lost on Sam as he remembered standing in the bunker’s kitchen almost a year ago, the look of disbelief and pain that flashed across his brother’s face…The same face that Sam had cleaned the blood from with a warm cloth after laying Dean’s body in his bed. Sam watched Dean’s motionless face for several moments after, watching for any movement, any sign that his brother wasn't actually gone. He wasn't sure how long he actually stood at the end of Dean’s bed. He couldn't make his body turn around and leave his brother. It took all his strength not to crawl into that bed with Dean. Dean was his home. He had nowhere else to go. The pain he felt when he turned and walked away was greater than anything he’d ever experienced, and that included being in the cage with Michael and Lucifer. After drinking a bottle of whiskey, the pain had dulled to almost bearable. His mind was surprisingly focused and he knew what he needed to do. 

When Crowley finally appeared in the devil’s trap, Sam was waiting, knife in hand. His vision was suddenly red around the edges. Crowley appeared with his hands raised as if to try and calm down the angry Winchester. Sam was beyond appeasing. 

“You did this to him, you son of a bitch. Bring him back….NOW!” The last word echoed off the walls of the dungeon. Sam’s breath was coming out in pants now, his anger stealing the air from his lungs. He could feel the tears threatening to escape from his eyes but he’d be damned if he was going to give Crowley the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

“I can’t,” Crowley answered.

“What the fuck do you mean you can’t?!? You’re the fucking King of Hell you smarmy asshole. You made this mess, you fix it or I swear to GOD I will make you pay in ways that even you can’t imagine!”

Fear briefly flickered through the demon’s eyes and he took a step back in the circle. There was a reason demons feared the Winchesters.   
“Settle down, Moose. I said I can’t, not that I wouldn't”

“Crowley you have about 10 seconds before I do something that will make even you scream.”

“When did you become such a tease, Sam?”

“TALK!”

“Fine, I can’t fix what I can’t find. Your dearly departed darling Dean has…… left the building.”

The look of anger and disbelief must have been extremely apparent even to Crowley.

“If you don’t believe me, go have a look for yourself. He woke up a little…different than when you last gazed into his…Eyes.”

A deep menacing growl escaped Sam’s throat, “One last time Crowley, no more of your fucking sideways talks and bullshit half-truths. Where…..the fuck…..is Dean?”

“Dean….well Dean didn't want you to see him in his current state, so he left. Honestly Sam, I tried to stop him. Him being out there, a Winchester in his current…..condition, alone, is not the best idea. Of course, your brother has always been the ‘jump off the cliff and think about the consequences later’ kind of man. But right now he really needs safety and guidance which he so…kindly rejected from me.”

Sam stood his ground, barely keeping his growing unease in check.  
“What condition, Crowley?”

Crowley eyed the larger Winchester with a calmness that was about ready to push Sam over the edge.   
“I swear Sam, I didn't have any idea what the Blade was truly doing to your brother until it was too late. The Blade had already started working its way into Dean’s soul. Dean and The Mark truly became one after Metatron ended his natural life in that warehouse. After that it was just a matter of waiting for the spell to complete itself.”

“Crowley, you said ‘natural life’. What the hell do you mean by ‘natural life’?”

“Well Sam, I’m going to put it as simply as I can seeing as how your already over taxed brain is having trouble catching up with the rest of the class. The Blade and the Mark started twisting your brother’s soul the moment the three of them became one in Magnus’s house of horrors. The final component to the spell was actually Metatron’s doing. By killing Dean, Metatron actually created something even that little grease stain should fear. He created the first Knight of Hell in….well the last time mankind was wearing fig leaves.”

Sam’s heart stopped; his chest tightened so much that he was actually shocked his ribs weren't cracking.   
“Dean is…..”

“Your sweet-hearted big brother is a walking, talking demon, and not just any demon but the most badass of all badass demons. You should actually be a little proud of your big brother, Love, only a very special person can take on the Mark. Dean dove in head first, I supposed I have you to thank for your gentle nudging down the right path. A path, I may point out he wouldn't have gone down if he had his little baby brother’s loving voice to stop him.”

Sam couldn't find enough air in his lungs to speak. He stared at Crowley, waiting for the punch line.

“I’m sorry Sam, I truly am. I tried to get Dean to stay. I really did, but he didn't want you to see him. He felt it best to leave to reflect on his current state of being.”

Sam closed his eyes, suddenly feeling as though the gravity of the entire earth were focused on his body, trying to force him to the ground. Sam knew the Blade was changing Dean. He knew what Dean had said as he was laying in Sam’s arms, right before he…..  
The sudden image of Metatron plunging the angel blade deep into his older brother’s chest caught Sam off guard and for a few long seconds, he forget to breath. Then when he could breathe again, he wished he couldn't. The pain of that one moment of his life made Sam wish his heart would just stop in his chest so he couldn't feel anything anymore. 

After a few more minutes of threats and screaming, Sam finally got Crowley to admit that he didn't know where Dean was exactly, but that if Sam let him out of the trap, he would find him. Of course Sam didn't believe a word that was spewing from the demon’s mouth, but Sam was desperate and Crowley knew it. Sam would do anything to get his brother back. And that included making a deal with the devil. In return for Crowley’s “help,” Sam agreed to give the addict a syringe of his blood, which Crowley immediately stuck into his arm and pushed the plunger so hard and fast that Sam was amazed that the whole thing wasn't permanently embedded in the asshole’s arm.

 

~~~~~~~~

 

“I’m proud of us.”

Dean.

Sam refused to believe that would be the last human thing Dean ever said to him. But those four words….that’s what keeps Sam moving. Dean. His Dean. And if he had to raise hell and bring down heaven, he would get his brother back.

The sound of his cell phone ringing brought Sam back to reality. Reaching over he turned down the radio and picked up his phone. The caller ID read “666”. Crowley. Sam took a few deep breaths to get his anger in check.  
“Where are you?” Sam asks in a small clipped voice.

“Now now, Moose, is that anyway to greet a friend?” Crowley’s voice was sugary sweet; it made Sam want to peel the demon’s skin off strip by strip.

“Friend?!? You’re shitting me, right?”

“From where I’m standing, or sitting actually, I’m the best friend you've ever had. And since I’m the only one who can give you back your big brother, I might suggest a little more ass kissing and a little less….well you.”

Sam’s grip on his phone tightened, he’d never been one to keep his emotions in check in the best of circumstances and Crowley knew it. But Crowley also knew that Sam would do anything to get his brother back, and that knowledge was the only thing keeping Sam in check. That, and imagining all the wonderful ways he could disembowel the King of Hell when this was over. 

“Come on Sam, use your words. I know you can do it, college boy.”

Sam closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He’d have to play the demon’s game for now. Revenge later.  
“I’m about 10 miles south of Salem, Crowley. Directions would be helpful.”

~~~~~~~

Fifteen minutes later Sam pulled the Impala into the parking lot of an abandoned car dealership. He spent the remainder of the drive trying to figure out what Crowley was up to. Crowley knew the Winchesters, but the Winchesters knew him, too. And Sam knew that this was part of whatever game the demon was running. He hated that he was being played like a chess piece but he also knew that he had few options. 

Sam uncurled his 6’4” frame from the driver’s seat of the Impala. He looked around at the buildings in the lot. The windows had long since been broken out, shards of glass caught the lights of the two working street lights. Weeds thrived, pushing through the cracks in the concrete. The air was a thick, warm mist that made it hard for Sam to take a deep breath. He could feel the beads of moisture working their way down his neck, sliding slowly down between his shoulder blades to the small of his back. Between the dense fog and the dim street lights, the shadows around him all looked menacing. He reached into his inside jacket pocket and felt for the familiar grip of his knife. He pulled it out slowly out, more for his own peace of mind than any perceived threat. With his other hand, Sam reached into the car and grabbed for his gun that was safely hidden underneath the piles of fast food wrappers and empty coffee cups. He would need to clean the shit out of this car before Dean saw it.

Dean.

Sam set his gun back down on the driver’s side seat and shut the door. The echo bounced off the walls of the building making a shiver run up Sam’s spine. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and walked back to the trunk. After stowing the items he had retrieved and the knife, Sam finally moved away from the safety of the Impala. He knew Crowley was already here and probably having a fucking fantastic time watching Sam squirm. Mentally he added that to the list of reasons he was going to enjoy killing the asshat. 

Sam let his hunter’s mask take form. Face devoid of emotion, never let the enemy see who you really are. A trick that Dean had tried to teach him for years, and one that Sam wasn't very good at. Sam always had a hard time hiding his emotions. It was a weakness and he knew it. But not his biggest weakness….

“Have any trouble finding the place, Moose?” Crowley’s voice asked suddenly, muted slightly by the moisture that hung in the air. 

Sam stilled. He closed his eyes. His heart threatened to beat out of his chest. He turned slowly toward the sound of the voice. Sam was careful to maintain control over himself. His hand tightened on the grip of the knife and he could feel the familiar weight of the gun he’d retrieved from the trunk in the small of his back. Dean’s gun. He needed a connection to his brother right now and he wasn't picky about where it came from. 

Crowley walked slowly from the shadow that half smirk, and mocking grin plastered on his face. Sam clenched his jaw so tight that he was sure he was going to crack teeth. His clenched fist shoved deeply into his pocket so the demon couldn't see how badly it shook. 

“Crowley.” Sam growled. Thankfully, his voice was steady and projected enough menace to make a smart man turn and run. Crowley was neither a man nor as smart as he thought he was. 

“Sam, I must say, you've looked better. You've looked worse too, but not by much.” 

“Cut the shit Crowley, where’s Dean?”

“Oh come on Moose, you think it’s easy to get a Knight of Hell to do whatever I want? Especially one that’s engrained with that Winchester stubbornness that I know and loath? Even the King has his limits.”

“Bullshit! We both know that you did this to him! You made him into your, what? Your own personal bodyguard? Your enforcer? I want my brother back Crowley, I don’t give a fuck if he’s got green eyes or black. WHERE….. IS……. HE?” Sam was glad that he was far enough away from Crowley that the kilt-wearing leprechaun couldn't see how badly his entire body shook. 

Crowley took a step toward Sam. The younger Winchester tensed. For once Crowley seemed to think better of angering Sam any further and halted his advance, raising his hands to his chest as if to surrender. Sam knew better.

“Okay Samantha, okay. How about we put that pointy stick down and talk like gentleman? Demon or not, I don’t think your brother would take me having to hurt you very well. Even if provoked and my reasoning’s completely justifiable.” 

“Talk.” Sam didn't trust his own voice any further than angry, clipped one word answers. 

“Fine. Your Dearest Dean has decided that even in his current state, listening to me is not high on his ‘to-do’ list. I was able to control him briefly, but my hold on him requires certain……steps.”

“What steps, Crowley?”

“This is what I love about you, Moose. You are a man of few words and fantastic hair.”

Sam continued to glare at the King, and wished now more than ever that he had the juice still to pull that demon out of the meat suit and end him.

“Dean wasn't controllable. Then he was, “Crowley said.” And I thought to myself, ‘Self? What changed, why is this bullheaded ass suddenly willing to listen to reason?’ And then, once again, he stopped listening and flicked off to parts unknown, refused to answer my hundreds of text messages. And then it came to me: Dean listened to me after our little chat the last time. And I can tell by that pitifully confused look upon your overly large head that you are still confused by my little revelation. So let me make it simple enough, even for you. I came back to Dean smelling like the one thing that he has ever responded to, the one thing that he has ever killed for, died for, loved….I came back brimming with baby Winchester blood. He smelled his little Sammy. And for a brief shining minute he actually behaved. Then your wondrous aroma wore off. Normally, I can sense where my demons are, but Dean is not one of mine, is he? He’s a whole new breed of monster. Handpicked by the man who was handpicked by Lucifer himself and part mule-headed Winchester. God help Hell with him loose, who knows what chaos he will create down there.”

Sam had become eerily calm and waited until he was sure the fuck was done monolouging before he finally let himself speak.   
“You knew Crowley, you’d seen me pull Dean back before. You KNEW that you needed me to control Dean, didn't you?” 

Crowley smiled a shy smile through fluttering eyelashes, “I had a notion that I might need you, or in this case, a piece of you to control that rabid dog. I thought taking your finger or your ear might hinder my attempts at peace with your brother dearest. But a bit of your sweet smelling blood, well that he couldn't resist. Even as a Knight of Hell, it seems your brother requires his better half.”

Sam knew that Dean could hear him when he went into his Blade trances, but that was before Metatron, before Dean…Sam knew at that moment just how far he was willing to go. All doubt fled in an instant. He’d given so much of himself to the job, to the life. He’d already lost so much, so many. Dean was all he had left. All that mattered.   
“If you’re telling me you need more of my blood, it’s yours”, Sam glared as he started unbuttoning the sleeve of his jacket,” But there are two things you need to understand Crowley. One, you may be my only lead in bringing Dean in, but I swear on my life that if you double cross me or fail to produce my brother in 24 hours, I will end you. I am done being a pawn in your little game of Heaven and Hell. I want my brother back. I will do whatever it takes to get him back. Things I swore to myself I’d never do again, things I promised him I’d never do again. I will do whatever it takes to kill you. Not send you back to hell. Kill you.”

Crowley’s eyes flashed with a sudden moment of fear as he stared into the eyes of the taller Winchester. He knew what Sam had been capable of in the past. Sam wasn't sure if he could still use his powers, but damn if he’d let Crowley think any different. 

“Two?” Crowley finally asked, curiosity finally getting the better of him. And to be honest, the look on Sam’s face at the moment was almost enough to make Crowley rethink his master plan. 

Sam allowed himself a tight-lipped smirk.   
“Two. Dean, he’s ALL Winchester. And you’d better remember who you’re playing games with, asshole.”


	2. Knight

Dean paced around the floor of the old farmhouse like a caged animal. His skin felt like it was crawling off his bones. The first thing he’d done when he stumbled upon his latest hideout was find old strips of stained and faded cloth, which he then hung on every window and mirror he found. He couldn't stand to look at himself, it was hard enough before when he was hiding from his metaphorical demons. Now he was the demon. 

When he’d left the bunker and Crowley behind after his reawakening, he had planned to find the nearest hunter and get himself killed. Then logic raised its fucking head. Dean knew that no matter his reasons for a suicidal crusade, that if he could actually find a hunter to kill him and that hunter actually did kill him, then that hunter wouldn't live long enough to enjoy his next birthday. What Dean forgot to factor in momentarily was one pissed off, homicidal, overgrown little brother. 

Sammy. 

Dean closed his eyes against the sudden pain in his chest. Apparently being a demonic pit bull didn't dull the very human emotions that racked through Dean’s body every time he let his mind wonder toward his little brother. Dean had tried to keep Sam out of this Mark of Cain, First Blade bullshit. His instincts to save Sam are always front and center, even now. The memory of Sam pushing him away after he found out about Gadreel and the angry shouting matches that followed echoed in Dean’s head. He never slept now, demons apparently don’t have a need for it, but Dean would give anything to be able to shut down completely even for a few hours. He felt his soul slowly tearing apart after he left Sam on that bridge. Dean knew he still had his soul. It may be dark and consumed by whatever power was flowing through his body right now, but it was still there. He knew it was because he could still feel Sam. Sam was the best part of Dean and Dean was trying desperately to hold onto that. 

Dean knew that when he woke up in his bed at the Bunker that it was Sam that had taken him there. It was Sam who had to deal with the pain of being the one left behind. Dean knew that pain. It almost killed him before, and if he had to go through it again, it would kill him. Dean also knew that Sam was looking for him right now. He could sense where his little brother was now. He knew when Sam was closing in on him. Sam had been close a few times. The big brother and hunter in Dean was damn proud of his brother’s tracking abilities. If Dean didn't know better he’d think that Sammy could sense him too. Dean lost track of Sam briefly a few days ago. It was only a matter of hours but it felt like eternity. He needed to know where Sam was, he needed to know if he was safe. 

What he wanted was Sam, there with him. But it wasn't safe. 

Dean had finally become the monster he’d been hunting his entire life. He also knew his pigheaded little brother enough to know that Sam wouldn't stop until he found Dean and then it would be back on the roller-coaster of trying to find a way to remove the Mark. Dean wasn't ready to involve Sam in that bullshit yet. He needed time to come up with a plan. He needed to work the problem. The only difference was that this time he’s the problem. 

Dean needed help and not from Crowley. He knew he needed Sam. He found himself wishing for the trillionth time that he could pick up his phone and call Bobby for help. After he got done ripping Dean a new one for taking on the Mark in the first place and listening to Crowley, and going off without his brother, again, Bobby would be able calm the older Winchester down and help him think things through. 

Dean’s other big problem at the moment, Crowley. He knew as soon as he woke up in his room with Crowley’s ugly ass face looking down at him that Dean had walked right into Crowley’s hands. That fucking demon had this whole thing planned out. Dean should have listened to his hunter’s instincts in the car that night with Crowley after his enlightening visit with Cain. Dean should have hauled ass back to the bunker and Sam. They should have gone and ganked Crowley. Then they could have figured out the problem and fixed it. Now everything is ten kinds of fucked to hell. 

And now, Dean has to deal with Crowley’s persistent attempts at summoning him. Dean knew that Sam had tried to summon his brother as well, apparently the Knight of Hell thing does have one perk. He doesn't answer to anyone. He felt guilty ignoring Sam. Dean knew that Sam needed him. Sam would need to see Dean with his own eyes. Sam would need physical proof that Dean was really as alive….ish. Anything after that Sam would demand that they fix, together, like they always have. Dean knew it because that’s exactly what he would do. Which only makes the guilt of running from Sam worse. 

“I lied.”

Dean closed his eyes again and brought back the memory of his brother’s voice. He could feel his throat tighten as he remembered the look of pure desperation in Sam’s eyes has Dean had felt his own heart stop. The last thing he remembered feeling where Sam’s arms wrap tightly around him, clinging to him like he did when he was little and Dean was getting ready to leave on a hunt with their father. He could hear Sam pleading with him to hold on and the feel of Sam’s tears falling down Dean’s face. Then nothing. 

Crowley had made half-hearted attempts to get Dean to go and talk with his brother. Dean knew he was just doing it because somehow Sam had forced the asshole to. Dean didn't even want to imagine how Sam had managed it. But he also knew how far he’d go to save his baby brother. That thought alone made Dean stop in his tracks. Sam was a pretty scary son of a bitch when he was mad. 

“Jesus Christ Sammy….what did you do?” Dean mumbled quietly to himself.

“He did what you Winchesters always do, my newly demonic playmate.” Crowley’s smug voice answered from the doorway. 

It didn't startle Dean, he’d sense the demon’s appearance a millisecond before but the hellish munchkin was not a welcomed addition to his homey décor. 

“Yeah Crowley, and what is that? What do we Winchesters always do?” 

“Why, ask for my divine intervention of course. We are sort of….family now are we not?”

Dean’s reflexes as a human were insanely fast, his reflexes as a Knight of Hell were beyond supernatural. Dean’s hand was around Crowley’s throat and squeezing before the King had even registered the Knight’s movements. Crowley let out a satisfying grunt of surprise and Dean continued to apply enough pressure to Crowley’s throat that even the heartless demonic bastard had to know Dean’s intentions. 

“We are NOT family you heartless son of a bitch.”

Dean’s grip on the demon’s throat suddenly relaxed and Dean took a step back, locking eyes with the soulless man in front of him.   
“Crowley, where is Sam?” Dean asked, his voice catching slightly. The older Winchester could sense his brother, he could smell that familiar scents that are purely Sam; cinnamon gum, vanilla, the woodsy smell of his aftershave, the cheap hotel shampoo that smelled the same in every motel they stayed at, Sam. 

Crowley stared at Dean with amusement as he watched the shorter Winchester work his way through his chain of emotions until he stumbled upon the answer. Crowley had long suspected that Dean held more than just a brotherly love for the obscenely tall Winchester and the more time he spent with Sam, he realized that the feelings ran both ways. Just another piece to add to the King’s expanding game of cat and mouse and moose. 

Crowley let out an exhausted sigh, “Dean, as much as I love watching the hamster wheel that is your brain work, I have a schedule to keep and I’m afraid that if I don’t produce one Knight of Hell to his bouncing baby brother soon, then he may actually kill me, and I love me. ‘Death by Gigantor’ is not what I want forever memorialized on my headstone.” 

“Crowley,” Dean growled through clenched teeth, “ Where the fuck is Sam and what the hell are you two up to? And why do you smell…..”

The gears all click into place at once and Dean finally realized why he could smell his brother and why he hadn't run from Crowley yet. Sam was flowing through the demon’s veins, again. The last time Crowley came to him smelling like his brother, Dean had threatened all kinds of imaginative ways he would torture the King if it happened again. Dean couldn't handle that the demon he wanted dead more than almost anything else had suddenly appeared smelling like the one person Dean wanted most. 

Dean shoved past Crowley and was out the farmhouse door in a blink of an eye. He needed to put some distance between himself and the lure of his brother. Dean knew that Crowley must have figured out at some point in his long history with the Winchesters that Dean’s feelings for Sam ran deep, deeper than they should considering they were brothers. Dean always chalked it up to their fucked up childhood. The way they were raised and the overly protective instincts that had been engrained in Dean’s DNA since he was four years old. The older they got however, the more Dean realized that it was more than just the brotherly bond that he was feeling. Dean hide those feelings behind sarcasm and whiskey. He tried not to over-analyze his reactions to Sam’s hookups or his own body’s reaction to his brother’s presence. Every once in a while though he would catch a look from his brother or a touch that may have lingered too long and Dean would find a little spark of hope that Sam felt the same way. Then Dean would promptly drown that spark in as much alcohol as his liver could stand. 

Dean found himself leaning against the side of what used to be a barn but now was just the skeleton of its former self. He let the rain that was falling in buckets wash away the heat that he was feeling. He wanted to kill something. Or fuck something. He wasn't entirely too picky which. The rain dripped down his face and helped hide the tears he couldn't hold back. 

“He misses you too you know. Might I suggest couples counseling? When last your sweetie and I spoke…..”

Dean rounded on Crowley pinning him to the wall of the barn.   
“You son of a bitch, Crowley,” Dean could barely contain his rage. He knew that if it weren't for Crowley being chalked full of the sweet, addictive smell of Sam, the he would pull the smarmy dick apart. 

“We've been over this my darling, son of a witch. And if you’re going to get angry with anyone perhaps your anger should be toward the schemer of this little dramatic rescue plan and not the innocent middle man. It was all Samantha’s idea to send me back to you smelling like your dearest. He knew it would help me keep you otherwise engaged whilst he swoops in dramatically and whisks you off your feet. But I don’t think little Sammy realizes how deeply, and somewhat unexpectedly, you would react to his blood, or he never would have trusted me with it,” Crowley crooned. There was an unmistakable note of amusement in the King’s voice. Crowley’s eyes traveled down the front of the rain soaked Winchester. Dean’s body was betraying him and Crowley could see the evidence hardening.

“Leave Sam out of this,” Dean spat back at Crowley. Dean could feel the effects of the blood. He felt them last time Crowley had come to him after his visit with Sam. Sam's blood sang to him, Dean wasn't sure if it was because of his new Demonic senses or because it was something that had always been there. But he could feel himself harden in response to his brother's scent. 

“Come on Dean, you can lie to me and yourself and much as you want, but we both know you really want Sam,” Crowley moved his head slightly so that his mouth was brushing Dean’s ear,” you want Sam right here, “Crowley moved his thigh slightly and the friction it created through Dean’s drenched jeans were enough to make a soft moan escape Dean’s mouth. Crowley sighed quietly, he had his Knight right where he wanted him.


	3. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated.

Sam skidded the Impala to a stop on the gravel driveway. He can barely see anything outside the car, the rain that had started as a light drizzle had turned into pouring sheets of thick rain. Sam could make out two distinct structures. One looked like an old farmhouse, the white paint peeled off in long strips hanging from the moldy wood. The shutters were hung at odd angles and looked to barely still be attached to house. The door to the house appeared to be open which made Sam’s stomach clench. Dean. He could sense his brother. Dean was here. 

The other building must have been a barn at one point. The roof of the structure must have caved in, Sam could see pieces of two-by-fours hanging loosely around the top of the building. The barn doors were broken, one was partially attached to the barn, and the other was laying in splintered pieces a few feet away. 

Sam steeled himself for whatever state he’d find Dean in because Sam knew, without a doubt, that he was here. Sam grabbed the knife off the front seat and opened the car door. He left Dean’s gun safely tucked underneath the floorboard. Sam knew that even if things with Dean went wrong that he would not be able to put a bullet in his brother. A bullet was pointless against a Knight of Hell anyway. Realistically, Sam also knew that he’d never be able to pull the trigger. He’d let Dean end him first. And when Dean finds out what Sam had done, he just might try. 

After giving Crowley two syringes full of his blood, Sam left the demon alone with his high. Sam knew that his blood would help Crowley find and placate his brother until Sam could get there but he also knew that Crowley was a junkie and that he preferred Winchester blood. Something about the purity of it. Sam had something he had to take care of before he faced his big brother. And he needed to hurry, he didn't trust Crowley with his brother. But Sam needed to level the playing field a little and there was really only one way he knew to do that.

He had found another empty lot, further off the main road and drew a devil’s trap in the pot-marked cement. He hadn't even given the demon a chance to talk before he slammed the knife into its chest up to the hilt. Sam watched the demon crackle and buck as it slowly died. Sam allowed himself a brief moment of guilt as he slowly lowered the vessel’s lifeless body to the ground. The human that the demon had been wearing as a meat suit hadn't deserved that death. Sam quickly moved past the guilt. Sam pulled the knife from demon’s chest. He examined the blood soaked blade, twisting it around in his hand. He raised the knife slowly toward his mouth and licked the blade. The blood didn't taste as sweet as he remembered. He hoped that wasn't a sign the blood no longer had any effects on him. He wasn't sure how the trials really changed him. Maybe they had purified him. After the blade was licked clean, Sam opened the veins in the corpse’s wrists and neck and drank until the blood no longer flowed. Then he summoned a second demon, and repeated the process.

Immediately Sam had felt the rush of power, that familiar feeling of invincibility. But it was different this time. Sam felt more in control of himself. His thoughts seemed clearer and more focused. Maybe without Ruby’s influence, Sam would be able to control himself long enough to get his brother back. After that, Sam really didn't give a fuck what happened, as long as he had Dean back. 

Sam felt in the pocket of his wet pants pocket. He felt the familiar shape through the rain drenched pocket of his jeans. Sam could feel his heart beating loudly and was sure that Dean would be able to hear it over the noise of the rain. Sam started toward the house. The rain was soaking him through to the bone. His clothes were plastered to his body. The demon blood working through his veins heightened his senses. His whole body was tense. He let his hunter’s instincts take over as he continued walking. Sam stopped twenty feet from the house. Dean wasn't in there. He could feel it now but Dean was close. His eyes flicked toward the barn. Dean. He was there. And he wasn't alone. 

Sam stood for a moment, the demon blood in him was singing. The high he normally got from drinking demon blood seemed to suddenly intensify to the point where it almost hurt. His breathing became erratic. His heart was hammering in his chest. He needed to get control of this before he faced Dean or all hell would break loose. Sam had come this far, gone down a road he swore to himself and Dean he’d never go down again. He had to do this. He owed it to his brother. Sam finally made his feet start moving again in the direction of the barn. He was almost to the barn doors when he heard voices and movement coming from behind the building. Sam closed the distance between himself and the barn in four quick steps and pressed himself as far into the wood wall as he could. He crept toward the corner trying desperately to control his breathing. He could hear the voices clearer now. Crowley. And Dean. Hearing his big brother’s voice again made Sam smile for the first time since that night at the bunker and he let out the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. Dean. Sam strained his ears, he wanted to have a better idea as to what he would be walking in on. 

~~~

Crowley grunted lightly as Dean’s grip on his arms tightened but was afraid to make too much noise. He didn't want Dean to come to his senses too soon. Crowley also knew that Dean’s baby brother was close. Crowley let his eyes move slightly to the side to see if he could catch a glance of the overgrown hunter. Sure enough Crowley’s eyes meet the hazel eyes of little Sammy Winchester peeking around the far corner of the barn. Sam’s eyes locked on the demons as Crowley let his head fall back against the barn door with an exaggerated moan. 

With Crowley’s head back, Dean had a wide open invitation to the demon’s neck, if he closed his eyes, Dean could imagine it really was Sam. Dean leaned in and took a deep breath, and let his imagination take over. His mouth closed on the exposed neck, sucking and licking, biting, marking what was his. What made him whole. 

“Sam,” Dean whispered as he pulled away refusing to open his eyes to who and what he was actually pressed up against. He felt his body stir and knew that Crowley could feel his hard cock pressed up against him. 

“No Squirrel, I’m not your Samantha,” Crowley whispered in his ear, “but he is here Dean, your Sam. Crowley’s gaze lifted from Dean’s shocked eyes and watches something over Dean’s shoulder. 

Sam. 

Dean pushed away from the demonic weasel and turned toward Sam. Dean took in the scene before him. Sam standing in the rain looking half surprised and half…something else. Something that made Dean’s body react in a painful way. Sam’s blue flannel shirt was clinging to his lean frame like a second skin. Dean could see his stomach muscles ripple with each deep breath Sam was taking. Dean could also sense something different, something not right. 

Sam could see a myriad of emotions crossing his brother eyes as they stood facing each other in the rain. Neither one of them giving a flying fuck that they were soaked to the bone. Sam could see Dean’s eyes widen, his breath hitched. He knew. Dean knew what Sam had done. Dean was panting now, trying to control his emotions and Sam could tell he was struggling. Dean was wearing only a white shirt and jeans. The shirt was see-through now though, Sam could Dean’s hardened nipples poking through the thin fabric. Dean’s hair was plastered to his head. Dean was paler than Sam remembered. He wasn't sure it was because he was cold or it was an effect of the Mark but even from this distance, Sam could see Dean’s freckles. Sam secretly loved those freckles. When he was younger he’d count them in the car with their father to pass the time. But the older Sam, he realized he just wanted to touch them. Then later, after he had run away to college, he realized it wasn't just the freckles Sam wanted to touch. 

Dean could see all the pain and fear in Sam’s eyes. But there was something else there, something that Dean had tried to ignore for years. Desire. Need. Love. Blood. But not Sam’s blood. Realization washed over Dean like ice. He suddenly realized what seemed off about Sam. Sam was humming with power, demonic power. Shit!

“Sam! What the fuck did you do?” Dean yelled over the sound of the rain. He knew he sounded more fearful than angry, but he was. Goddamn that kid! He fucking promised! Watching Sam get high on the demonic juice was bad enough, but getting him off of it had been a goddamn nightmare. It almost killed the stupid son of a bitch. It almost killed Dean. Why the fuck would he…… Sweet Jesus. 

Dean turned from Sam and bolted back into the farmhouse so fast that Sam would have missed it entirely had it not been for his heightened senses. Sam knew Dean was going to be angry, beyond angry at what he’d done to get here, but that was a nonissue at the moment. Sam looked over at Crowley who was still standing against the barn, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Well, well my love. Nice timing as usual. I had Dean right where I…where you wanted him. I got him all nice and worked up for you. You can thank me later. If you two flannel-wearing monkeys don’t dismember each other first. Chow.” Crowley blinked out leaving Sam standing in the rain wondering what the HELL just happened.


	4. Realizations

“Dean!” Sam half growled, half yelled running up the old farmhouse porch after his brother. Dean had made an attempt to slam the door after himself as he stormed away from his brother, but the door had seen better days and with Dean’s added Demon strength, all he managed to do was pull the door the rest of the way off the hinges. Sam had to kick the remainder of the door out of his way as he bolted into the house after his brother. 

Sam stepped into the house and let his eyes adjust to the dark. Drinking all that demon blood before coming for his brother had heightened his senses but his emotions were throwing everything off balance. He allowed himself a couple of heartbeats before he went in search of Dean. He could hear the floor boards above him groaning. Sam closed his eyes letting his hunter’s senses track his prey. Not prey. Dean. His Dean. Sam pounded up the stairs. There was no point in being quiet. Sam knew that even without Dean’s new demonic spidey senses that he’d know Sam was coming. He always knew where Sam was. 

Sam slowed as he approached the last room on the right. The door was open. There was a dim light coming from inside the room, it spilled out into the hallway making the walls dance with strangely haunting shadows. Sam stopped as he stepped inside the room. Dean was standing with his back to him, completely still. Sam stood quietly for a moment. His chest suddenly so tight he can’t seem to take a breath. Steeling himself for what he’s about to do Sam finally gets his legs to take him inside the room. 

“Dean,” Sam whispers, slowly moving to stand behind his big brother, “Dean, man…look at me please……Dean! Turn around and fucking look at me!”

Dean doesn't move his body but lets his head turn to look at Sam over his shoulder. “I told you outside to get the hell out of here Sammy. I ain't telling you again, leave.”

“No”, Sam’s response was clipped and firm. He would be damned if he was leaving here without his brother. 

“Sam…..Get….the….FUCK….OUT!” Dean turned his body around to face his brother. Sam anticipated the move though, and before Dean could take a step toward his brother, Sam’s hand flew up out in front of him and Dean was thrown back against the wall with enough force that if he had been human, it would have knocked the wind out of him and broken a couple of ribs. Dean was so busy struggling to move his arms and legs while growling obscenity’s at his little brother that it took him longer that it should have to realize what had just happened. 

“Sammy, what did you do?!? Jesus, Sam…. Please, tell me you didn't.” 

Sam felt the guilt was over him. He saw the pain and fear in Dean’s eyes. Sam eyes dropped to the floor. He couldn't let Dean get to him now. He needed all his strength to hold Dean long enough to talk. Sam slammed in emotions in check and looked back up at his brother. 

“I did what I had to do, Dean. I needed you….I needed to find you. So yah, I drank a demon’s blood. And no, you don’t get to be angry with me for doing what I had to do to find you. I’d do it again, and I will do it again and I’ll keep doing it until you stop running from me.”

“The fuck you are Sam! You’re gonna get your ass back in that car and drive away from this and me as fast as you can, and don’t’ you dare look back.”

“So, you want me to leave you, again is that it? Don’t fucking lie to me Dean. I saw the look in your eyes outside when you saw me. I saw…… I saw everything. I know alright? I know how you really feel, I know that you don’t want me gone.”

“Whatever you think you saw outside, you didn't. This right here, this is who I am, who I was always supposed to be, Sam.”

“Bullshit. You can’t lie to me Dean. You can lie to yourself all you want but you can’t lie to me. I've been where you are, remember? I lost myself once and you, you pulled me back. You wouldn't let go. And right here, right now, you’re gonna be honest with me and with yourself.”

“Honesty Sam, really? Not really our thing is it? You can’t hold me here much longer and you know it.”

Dean’s look is carefully blank. He lets his eyes travel up and down Sam’s body. Sam’s had taken off his coat upon entering the room and tossed in on the old rocking chair in the corner of the bedroom. The clothes underneath the jacket were soaked through, and clung to Sam like a second skin. Dean noticed that Sam looked thinner, tired. Sam moved closer to Dean. Taking off his flannel shirt and tossing it to the side. The shirt made a wet thumping sound as it hit the floor. Sam was now inches away from his brother. This white tshirt showed that even with the weight lose, Sam’s body was still cut, Dean could see every muscle flexing beneath the shirt. He ached to touch them.

Sam takes the final step, and presses the full length of his body into Dean. He can see the water dripping from Sam’s shoulder length hair and rolling down his collarbone moving slowly down the front of Sam’s chest. Dean has a sudden desire to taste that raindrop. He tries again to move his arms but Sam’s mojo still has him trapped. Dean’s eyes move from the following the path of the rain back up to his brother’s eyes. 

“I want to know what that was about outside, Dean. No more lies or half-truths. It’s just you and me. Here, now. No more running,” Sam lets everything he’s feeling reflect through his eyes. He wants Dean to see. He’s tired of the fighting and the hiding, he’s tired of trying to live a life without Dean. 

“Sammy… I…I can’t. You know I can’t, we can’t. It’s not worth the price, I’m not worth the price, can’t you see that?”

Sam released his demonic hold on Dean, using his body to hold his brother against the wall. Sam’s hands firmly planted on either side of Dean’s head. Sam’s lips were so close to Dean’s that the slightest movement from either of them would bring their mouths together.

Sam moved his mouth so that it was brushing Dean’s ear, “You are worth everything Dean. Everything.”

Dean closed his eyes and let Sam’s words wash over him. The feel of Sam’s mouth against his ear and his breath hot on his neck was almost enough to push Dean over the edge. All he wanted to do was let go, he could feel the fight ebbing away. Sam.   
Dean’s head snapped up and suddenly Sam was flying back against the wall on the opposite side of the room. He felt his body slam against the wall followed swiftly by his big brother who now had Sam pressed up against the wall. Now it was Dean’s hands planted firmly on either side of Sam’s head. Sam struggled to move his arms and legs even though he knew it was pointless. Sam looked up from his trapped arms to see his brother’s black eyes inches from his face. Dean’s breath was coming out in fast pants. Sam’s own breathing seemed to stop. 

“Dean….?”

“Sam, shut up,” Dean growled. Dean took a hand away from the wall and moved it slowly down to Sam’s waist. He lifted up the bottom of Sam’s drenched t-shirt and ran his finger lightly along the exposed flesh. The touch sent electric shocks through Sam and his eyes rolled shut. He tried to move his hips into Dean’s tough, but his body was still under Dean’s control.

Dean closed his eyes and his grip on Sam’s waist tightened. There would be bruises there tomorrow, but he was pretty sure neither of them gave a fuck. Dean opened his green eyes, bringing his other hand to the back of Sam’s head, tangling his fingers in his brother’s long brown hair. His eyes locked on his brother.

“Sam, I need to know. I need to know if this is you or if it’s the fucking demon blood. Because if it is, I can’t do this. I won’t.”

Sam took a deep breath. He needed Dean to hear the truth in his voice. “It’s me, Dean. Demon blood or not, I want this. I want you. I always have. And I know how completely fucked up that is, believe me. But I don’t care. I figure I’m already damned. And I want this, I want you, before I’m back in the pit. But I need to know if this is really YOU, and not the Mark, because I don’t want anything less than you. You’re worth being damned to hell for, Dean. You’re worth my soul.”

Dean’s grip on Sam’s waist loosened. He sighed quietly, letting out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. His eyes left his brother’s and moved up and down Sam's muscular body. His hand slowly moved down Sam’s thigh and over to his cock, rubbing against the wet fabric. Sam whined loudly. He was already hard and knowing that it was Dean touching him was enough to make him fight coming right then. Dean pressed his palm against the bulge and let it rest there. His other hand moved to cup Sam's face, his thumb running softly along Sam’s jaw and up to his lower lip. Dean studied his brother's eyes. They were currently a deep hazel and filled with lust and something deeper. Dean moved so that his lips were barely touching his baby brother's. Sam tried desperately to close the distance between them, but Dean still held him tightly against the wall with his new demonic powers. 

The silence was killing Sam. The air between them was filled with electricity. “Dean… Please,” Sam whimpered quietly. “Say something.”

“It’s me, Sam,” Dean whispered hoarsely, “and if you’re going to burn in the pit for this, I’m going to be right there with you. I need you, baby boy. I thought after all this I could walk away from you and be okay. But I can't.... God help me, I can't."

Sam wasn't sure what to expect next. But watching his brother pull away from him slowly and drop to his knees wasn't it. Sam could barely move his eyes enough to angle them down to follow the movements of his brother. Dean looked up at his brother, his eyes asking for permission. 

"Yes." Sam answered the silent question with a deep, lust-filled voice. 

Dean kept his eyes focused on Sam as his hands moved to unbuckle his belt, then one by one slowly unbuttoned his jeans, letting his fingers brush against Sam's hard cock. The noises coming from Sam were making Dean's own cock twitch painfully. Dean pushed the fabric out of the way enough to reach his hand inside Sam's boxers and free his cock. Sam let out a loud moan and tried not to lose control.   
Dean wrapped his hand around the base of Sam's cock, not letting his eyes leave his little brother's for a moment as he lowered his mouth, wrapped his sinful lips around the head, and sucked lightly. 

"Jesus... Dean, let me... I need to touch you, please." Not being able to move was sweet torture. Sam's whole body felt like it was on fire. Every nerve was snapping. His breath was coming out fast and harsh.

Dean smirked up at Sam, and the image of Dean sucking on his cock was way hotter than anything Sam had ever seen in his entire life. Dean stopped sucking and used his tongue to lick a line up the bottom of Sam's shaft, making sure that he ran it over the slit, lapping up the precome before pulling off. 

Still watching those beautiful hazel eyes, Dean took his hands and ran them along Sam's hip bones and up underneath his shirt, feeling the hard, straining muscles rippling beneath his fingers. Dean stood up then, moving his hands up to Sam's nipples, running his fingernails over them lightly, earning him a string of expletives from his brother. Sweat was dripping down Sam's neck now. Dean let his eyes finally leave his brother as he moved his head to lick up Sam's neck, sucking, nipping every inch. 

"Dean.... Oh God… Please, please let me... Fuck!" Sam's sentence was cut off as Dean's mouth found its way to Sam's ear and was currently nipping the sensitive area behind it. It was taking all of Sam's strength not to come. Dean's hand worked its way back down to Sam's cock and he began stroking it as he assaulted Sam's neck and ear. Sam's eyes rolled back and he slammed them shut.  
"Dean..." Sam was begging now and he didn't care. He was pretty sure if he didn't touch his brother soon he would actually die. 

"What do you want, Sam?" Dean whispered into Sam's ear. "Tell me, baby boy." 

"Dean...." Sam could hardly think, let alone form a complete sentence. 

"Sammy, tell me what you want. What do you need?”

"God, Dean," Sam's brain was having trouble forming words. "You, I need you."

"To do what, Sammy?"

Sam opened his eyes to see his brother staring back at him. His lips swollen and pink, a flush to his cheeks, and god help him it was pornographic and sexy and hot as fuck. And Sam knew exactly what he wanted.

"Fuck me, Dean."

Sam could feel his body being released from the wall at the same moment he felt Dean’s mouth close possessively over his, hard and rough and full of need. Sam opened his mouth, allowing Dean's mouth to take what it wanted. The kiss was hard and demanding, teeth clashing, tongues fighting for control. Sam moaned loudly into his brother’s mouth. It was everything Sam didn't know he wanted.  
Finally free and able to touch his brother, Sam’s hands reached up and grabbed the back of Dean’s head, angling him so that he could deepen the kiss. Sam's lungs were screaming for air, but he couldn't make himself pull away long enough to take a breath. Sam wrapped his hand around Dean's back and pulled him closer. They kissed for minutes, or hours, Sam wasn't sure.

Dean finally pulled away, his lungs burning from lack of oxygen, and he felt lightheaded, but he didn't care. What he did care about was unwrapping his brother and finally getting them both horizontal. 

Reaching out and grabbing the hem of Sam's shirt, Dean pulled it up and over his head in one fluid motion, taking a moment to drink in the sight of the man before him. 

Sam was beautiful. There's no other word for it. His dark skin was marked with scars, some old, some new. He'd lost weight since Dean last saw him and he was hit with a stab of guilt. The weight-loss was his fault and he knew it. Sam would have run himself to death if he hadn't found him. Dean knew because he would have done the same thing. Dean took a hand and ran it across a new scar, one that was still red and slightly angry looking.

"It was a knife," Sam whispers, seeing the concern in his brother’s eyes. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

"My fault,” Dean answers back. "If I hadn't left... If I hadn't listened to Crowley..."

"No," Sam says with an edge to it. "You're not doing that, we aren't doing that. We aren't going to play the blame game." Sam reached out to grab Dean by his shirt, pulling him into his arms. Sam brought one hand up and cupped Dean's face, making the older Winchester look into his brother's eyes. 

"This. What we are doing, what we are right now and until the end, this is what matters. It's a new start for us both. And yes, things are still fucked up out and there and we both have messes we need to fix and the damn Mark to figure out, and we will, together. But in here, right now.... Dean, it's just us. You and me.” Sam paused. “Dean, I thought...I thought I lost you and I never want to feel like that again. So whatever else happens, whatever shit we deal with, it's the two of us. Always." Sam's eyes glistened as he brought his lips to Dean's and sucked lightly on his bottom lip. Then he moved to Dean's ear and licked slowly up that spot behind Dean's ear, then nibbled on his lobe, drawing a moan from his brother. Sam lifted his mouth away from Dean's ear and leaned in to whisper, "But tonight, tonight you're mine, and I don't want to share you with old memories and past regrets." Sam reached down and twisted the bottom of Dean's shirt, pulling it up and over Dean's head. 

Now it was Sam's turn to study the perfection that is Dean Winchester. While Sam may have lost some of his body mass, Dean had put some on. Sam wasn't sure he wanted to know how, and right now he could care less. Dean's abs were flat and tan as always but more sculpted than they had ever been, his chest and shoulders bore more of the freckles that Sam loved so much. Dean’s arms had always been strong, the life of a hunter demanded it, but they were more defined now. Sam's eyes finally made their way back up to his brother's, and Sam was a little surprised to see that Dean was blushing and suddenly appeared nervous. 

"What?" Dean asked, trying for defensive but coming off sounding a little nervous. 

"Nothing, I've just never seen you this nervous about sex."

"Yeah, well, I've never been eye-fucked by my little brother before."

Sam smiled then, a genuine, honest to God smile that brought out those deep, sexy dimples that made Dean's world a little brighter. 

Sam pulled Dean back into his arms; the feeling of Dean's flesh pressed up against him suddenly made Sam want to hurry things along. He started scanning the room for anything resembling a bed. 

Dean was way ahead of him and broke the embrace to lead Sam over to a ratty, musty smelling bed that Dean must have been using because it had a couple of worn quilts thrown over it. 

Both Winchesters stood staring at the bed for a few seconds before Dean broke the silence. 

"Sam, have you ever... I mean, I know college... I never asked..."

Sam looked over at his brother carefully. "No. I mean I never wanted to until... Well I wouldn't want to with anyone else. Have you ever....?"

"No. I never... Not with anyone. It's just you, because it's YOU." 

Sam turned to look at his brother. His hand moved up to his face and he carefully ran a finger over his jaw line and cupped the back of his neck. Slowly he brought their mouths together. The kiss started off light and sweet and full of all the things that they'd never said, but were always there. 

Sam's other hand moved down Dean's back, feeling the muscles beneath his soft skin. He moved his hand around to the front and started working on getting Dean's pants off, first the buckle, then the buttons. Sam took his hand and slid it underneath Dean's boxers, finding his cock and wrapping his large hand around it. 

Dean hissed loudly into Sam's mouth and soon the kisses turned harder and more heated. Dean took all of Sam's mouth for his own, licking and biting and sucking. Dean's hand sneaked down in to resume its earlier attention on Sam's cock. 

"Dean," Sam mumbled into Dean's mouth. "Clothes, off... Now!" Dean made a noise of understanding, but instead of pulling away completely Dean's mouth left Sam's and moved down his neck, sucking and biting its way down to his nipples, which he bit and licked and bit again, causing Sam to swear loudly as his hips bucked up into Dean's fist. 

"Oh God.... Dean!" Sam grabbed Dean's longer-than-normal hair, causing Dean to moan with pleasure. "Should have known you were a kinky bastard," Sam says in a cracked voice. 

They finally broke apart long enough to shed the rest of their clothes. Dean pushed Sam down on the bed and quickly followed, pressing his body flush against Sam's, needing to feel the heat and strength of his brother. 

Sam looked up into the emerald eyes of his brother, searching for doubt. When he saw none he wrapped his arms around Dean and pulled his mouth into his. He rolled them until they were facing each other on the bed and then he reached down to find Dean's cock again. He rubbed his thumb along the slit, coating the tip with precome. Dean's hips moved into Sam's touch and he bit at Sam's lower lip, taking it into his teeth and sucking on it. 

Sam mumbled into Dean's mouth. Dean released Sam's mouth momentarily. "What?" Dean asked, at the same time finding faction enough to run his hand down Sam's chest and find his cock, hard and leaking and in need of his touch. A finger ran lightly up and down the underside of Sam's cock, teasingly. "What did you say, Sammy?" Dean said, right before attaching his mouth to the area where Sam's shoulder and neck meet, causing Sam to shutter and swear at the same time. 

"I said.... I meant it." Sam managed to get out a complete sentence with great difficulty. 

"Meant what, baby brother?" Dean asked and the resumed his teasing, a finger lightly brushing over the slit of Sam's cock, causing the grip on Dean's own cock to tighten almost painfully. 

"I meant what I....said. I want you to fuck me.” Sam's voice was pure sex and it caused Dean to stop his teasing and look into the eyes of his little brother. 

"Are you sure? I mean...I've never... We've never...." Dean stammered, fighting the mixed emotions of fear and a desire.

"Yes, Dean, I'm sure." Sam's look was confident and sure and full of love. He leaned up to take back those fuckable lips, but Dean pulled away. 

"Okay, Sammy, okay. But I don't have any... I mean I don't usually carry it around." 

"Dean, we've been to hell, my soul was tortured by Lucifer. I'm okay with a little bit of pain. Plus if you make us stop this right now, I'll draw a Devil's Trap around this bed and make you stay here until I get what I want. I trust you."

Dean looked over at his little brother trying to decide how serious he was about the Devil's Trap, and admitted to himself that he's not necessarily opposed to that idea. Seeing that stubborn determination in his brother's eyes, Dean knew he'd give Sam whatever he wanted. So did Sam. 

"Dean, stop thinking," Sam purred into Dean's ear as he took his lobe between his teeth and bit down just enough to send shivers down Dean's spine. Sam moved his mouth to Dean's ear, just barely brushing it, and whispered in a deep, sexy voice that Dean had never heard before, "I’m not scared of you, D.”

“Sammy, look at me,” Dean pulled away far enough to keep his mouth and ears out of reach of that dangerous mouth. “I want to… I want to do that with you, all of it, everything. Hopefully multiple times in multiple positions.”

“But?”

“But, Sammy I don’t want my first time with you to be here…In this moldy room that smells like rat piss and feet, on a bed that someone probably died in. It may sound girlie and if you repeat this…I want it to be, special. Or at least in someplace I’m not worried about you picking up the Bubonic plague.”

Sam studied his big brother’s eyes for any sign that he was messing with him. Sam hoped that this wasn't something Dean would kid about, but it is Dean Winchester after all. 

“Okay, Dean…If you’re serious and that’s what you want, I can wait. I've waited this long.”

“Sammy,” Dean leaned in and kissed Sam’s lips gently, running his tongue along the seam. He reached down and grabbed Sam’s cock using the precome to spread along the shaft. Sam’s hips responded, moving into Dean’s hand trying to get more friction. Sam moaned and opened his mouth and allowed Dean’s tongue full access. Dean bit and nipped at Sam’s lips before his kisses deepened and the hunger returned in full. 

Sam’s hands moved around Dean’s back, pulling him in closer and allowing him to feel the newly developed muscles underneath the smooth, freckled skin. He could feel Dean shiver beneath his touch and the kisses grew even more urgent. 

Sam moved his hand around Dean’s side, and down, and wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock. Dean batted his hand away causing Sam to make a noise that sounded like a manly whine. Sam broke the kiss and pushed his brother back a little. “Dean, dammit let me touch you!”

“No, Sammy. Older brother prerogative. Tonight I get to do whatever I want. And you get to lie there and enjoy it.” Dean took Sam’s lip in his teeth and tugged gently. “The only thing you have to do, Sammy,” Dean moved to Sam’s ear and licked around the edges, sucking on the lobe, “is come when I tell you to.”

“Jesus Christ, Dean!”

Dean laughed lightly and resumed his attention to his little brother’s mouth. The hand that was currently making Sam mumble things in a dead language into Dean’s mouth moved and took both their cocks in his hand, pumping them both in unison, causing both brothers to start panting and sweating and whispering each other’s names between kisses. 

“Sammy, I’m not going to last as long as I want to this time. Sorry, baby brother.” Dean panted into Sam’s mouth.

“Dean…I’m going to….”

“Go ahead baby. Come for me.”

Sam came so hard that he saw white lights and he was pretty sure his heart actually stopped beating. Beside him he felt his brother’s body tense and he was suddenly screaming Sam’s name. 

Sam may or may not have passed out for a few minutes. When he woke up, Dean had him snuggled up next to him, Sam’s head resting on his chest and Dean’s arms wrapped protectively around him.

“How long was I out?”

Dean laughed sleepily, “About an hour. Go back to sleep baby boy, I got you. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay.” Sam yawned and moved his body so that he could touch as much of his brother as humanly possible. “Dean, I love you,” Sam’s eyes fell shut and his breathing became relaxed and even before Dean answered. “Love you too, Sammy, more than you know.”


End file.
